


Best Served Cold

by JSinister32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dealing With Trauma, Don't copy to another site, Hannibal Doesn't Get to Eat Anybody, Hannibal Lecter Has Feelings, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Oral Sex, Soft Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Has Feelings, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, confession of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSinister32/pseuds/JSinister32
Summary: In the course of an investigation, Will Graham manages to get himself kidnapped.  Hannibal Lecter receives a phone call demanding a paltry ransom for his return, a price which he is more than happy to pay.When complications arise during Will's rescue, will they be able to finally admit what they are feeling, or will they let the opportunity slip them by?
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 250





	Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest apologies for my long absence this week, my darlings. Sometimes, I can't balance my usual workload on top of my desire to write, and one or the other collapses. While I begin my chapter updates for this week, I have written a tasty little treat with an exceptional bite to help. Regular updates will begin this weekend while I play catch up.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> 🤍JM

_He speaks softly,_   
_So as not to disturb_   
_The monster in my blood._   
_T.S. Ward_

* * *

[12:14PM] **Hi Hannibal. I just wanted to remind you that we** **’ll be moving in on our suspect in the next twenty minutes. I may be radios silence for a time, but as soon as it’s safe, I’ll let you know what happened.**

[12:16PM] **Also, can we celebrate tonight? I won** **’t be sad to see the back side of this case.**

[12:18PM] _Hello, darling. Thank you for the reminder. My alarm went off about a half hour ago, but I do enjoy hearing your progress from your voice, as it were._

[12:22PM] _Of course we can celebrate tonight. Would you like me to prepare dinner?_

[12:23PM] **Christ, that sounds wonderful. I haven** **’t had your cooking in some time. We seem to find better ways to occupy our evenings together.**

[12:25PM] _You can have whatever you wish. Name it and it_ _’s yours._

[12:27PM] **Pork loin? It** **’s the dish that won me over.**

[12:28PM] _Feeling nostalgic, are we?_

[12:31PM] **And celebratory. Don** **’t forget that part.**

[12:33PM] _Shall I prepare some apple roses for you too, sweet?_

[12:34PM] **Christ, I don** **’t deserve you.**

[12:35PM] _All things that come to us in life are meant to be appreciated, whether we feel they are deserved. Think nothing more of it. I will begin my preparations when I arrive this evening. I look forward to hearing all about your successes._

[12:36PM] **You are wonderful, Hannibal. I don** **’t know what I’d do without you.**

[12:39PM] _Starve, darling. Shh, now. Catch the bad men you_ _’re after and come home to me tonight._

***

The flowers were beginning to wilt ever so slightly around the edges. They were Will’s favorite dessert; tart green apples cut into slivers and dusted with cinnamon sugar, rolled into pastry dough, baked and glazed to perfection. The man in question was not present to enjoy them. Hannibal had chosen Will’s favorite shirt for that evening; the one that matched his eyes to perfection and fit him without a millimeter to spare. The rich vetiver and cedar notes in his cologne were already beginning to deepen at his throat. The doctor ran a hand through his hair and collected his phone from the charger, praying Will had simply lost his phone in the scuffle.

[04:40PM] _Darling, when should I expect you?_

[07:53PM] _If you are running any later, I may need to content my disquiet by delivering myself to the door and mercy of the Bureau_. 

[09:12PM] _Will pleas-_

The phone in Hannibal’s hand began to ring, cutting through the text message he’d been typing. The number that came through was blocked. A cold fear washed through him, but he swiped to accept and held the phone to his ear. He didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to. The breathing on the phone told him all he needed to know.

“This the man who calls the fed we caught today ‘darling’?” Hannibal’s mind screamed in fear, his vision whiting out for a brief moment. It took a colossal amount of effort to pull himself back to the conversation. He took a steadying breath before responding.

“It is. May I ask with whom I am speaking?” The snicker that issued forth from the phone’s speaker raised the hair on the back of Hannibal’s neck. 

“You can ask, but you know I’m not going to answer. Guy we got says you’re the one to call if we want to collect more than his life.” Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. He listened to the sounds; clanking pipes, vibration in the man’s voice. _They_ _’re underground. A basement in a large building, or warehouse of some kind._

“You going to answer me, man?” The doctor shook his head, trying to formulate a response.

“What exactly are you asking of me?” he replied. The voice let out another dry snicker.

“Twenty thousand cash. Delivered to a drop point of my choosing within the next day.” Hannibal nodded, weary. _Money. Pointless and more than procurable. Pedestrian and predictable._

“Am I to ‘wait for further instructions’, or will you be supplying me with a drop point at this time?”

“Drop point later. First, we have some rules to go over.” Hannibal sighed and cut through the voice that tried to act as if it had any kind of authority.

“Shall I surmise what your demands might include? No authority figures of any kind. Make the drop and leave. If conditions aren’t met, my partner will meet with a terrible end.” The silence on the other line was deafening.

“Pretty much,” the voice agreed petulantly. “You just let me know when you have the cash. You can text lover boy’s phone. It still works, no problem. I’ll deliver the drop point and your boy, safe and sound.” A terrible crunch came through the phone; the sound of a cry issued forth, lancing straight into Hannibal’s heart.

“Well, almost safe and sound,” the voice snickered. “I can promise to cause him no more harm until the banks open, but after that, I’d hurry if I were you. This one doesn’t tolerate pain well… and I get antsy when I have to wait.” The phone cut out without another word, obliterating Will’s cries so abruptly that Hannibal felt as if he’d just lost a limb. The doctor’s only connection to the light of his life was severed in an instant, leaving him empty and cold. Hannibal let out the breath that he’d been holding and dialed another number, waiting for Jack to pick up his phone. Slowly, the emptiness filled with the emotion that would propel him through the next steps; the feeling that would guide him to what he needed to do. While the phone rang, Hannibal formulated a plan.

By the time Jack responded, the emptiness inside him had been replaced with cold, calculated fury.

***

Of all of the reactions Jack had expected from Hannibal, calm rationalization was nowhere on the list. Anger, fear, flung accusations and veiled threats came with the territory of dealing with an emotionally charged situation, but when he picked up the phone to Hannibal’s voice explaining to him in clear, concise terms what had happened just moments before, Jack’s world felt as if it would collapse from beneath him, the earth swallowing him whole. Will was his responsibility; the entire team that had entered the warehouse fell under his command. To lose on of their own to the man that had been taking victims from the street, plucking them as if they were fruit that had finally ripened on the vine, was unthinkable. 

“Jack,” came the calm, dulcet tones from the other line. “I need you to explain what has happened. Tell me what you know, and let me help you find the man that took Will.” Jack tried to quell the shaking in his voice. He took a seat behind his office desk and sorely wished for a cigarette, carefully sifting through his jumbled thoughts.

He thought he had been so careful, but when they emerged from the darkness of the warehouse with nothing to show for their intel, Will had been missing from their ranks. Retracing their steps within the building had turned up nothing more than old ties where one victim must have stood, panting and waiting for death. Will had vanished without a single scrap of evidence to point them in the correct direction.

“I fucked up, Hannibal,” he finally replied. The horror and weariness he felt laced through his words. It didn’t matter how much he wanted things to be different. This mission and its failures would come down on him like an avalanche, crushing the last life he had remaining to him.

“Be that as it may, your statement is supremely unhelpful. Now. Tell me.” Even with the scathing retort, Hannibal’s voice was gentler than he deserved. Jack closed his eyes and let his head drop forward and told Hannibal everything they knew.

“It might be helpful to have your opinion on this one, Doctor,” he finished. “If you’re willing, that is. I know I put Will in danger-”

“Say no more. I am leaving now. I will call when I am close.” A pause came over the line, the silence filled with everything neither man wanted to voice. “Please do not keep me waiting in the lobby, Jack. I will be most displeased if you do.” The line went dead in his hands. Jack set his phone down on his desk, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

 _What the fuck am I going to do if something happens to you, Will? How will I ever forgive myself? How will anyone else forgive me?_ The agent stood and strode from his office in search of someone with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. It was shaping up to be a long night.

***

Hannibal collected the funds from one of his many safety deposit boxes that was readily available at a moment’s notice and met Jack Crawford in the lobby of the Bureau building, the nondescript black duffel bag in hand. His hair had come loose from its usual careful styling and fell into his eyes. His normal pristine fashion sense was somewhat disheveled; no waistcoat or jacket completed his shirt and dress slacks ensemble. The overcoat he wore was hastily thrown on without a scarf around his neck. Jack found Hannibal’s rumpled appearance as unsettling as the look in the other man’s eyes. While his demeanor remained calm, the agent could feel the palpable fury rolling from his skin in waves. 

It was terrifying to witness.

Jack let him in with a silent nod, neither man speaking as the elevator took them up to the fifth floor. Behavioral Sciences was abuzz with activity; a large picture of Will, taken unknowingly and blown up to larger than life, greeted the doctor’s weary gaze. Will’s features were relaxed into an almost tangible depiction of joy, his head turned to speak to someone who stood just out of the frame. Hannibal knew well who he had been looking at.

The sight of his small smile made Hannibal’s heart ache. He remembered the day it was taken. It was before they had officially started seeing one another romantically; Hannibal dropped by to assist with a profile and had caught the end of one of the profiler’s lectures in Major Crimes. He had watched, fascinated, as Will had commanded the room, paced in front of his bulleted notes as he spoke clearly and enthusiastically about how to read intent in blood splatter patterns, effectively discerning passion from opportunity.

Hannibal had barely contained his erection when the other man had joined him. They had collected their notes and walked to a cafe, only to spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know one another better. It had been the beginning, something Hannibal had slowly coaxed and cultivated into the satisfying relationship they currently shared. Someone within the Bureau had managed to snap a picture of Will as they left the building; happy, a little embarrassed at Hannibal’s praise, carefree. 

_As you have been since I_ _’ve taken an interest. As you will be again, when this nightmare is at an end._

The doctor turned to Jack and graced him with a small, savage smile. 

“So, Jack. Please bring me up to speed.” Jack nodded and collected a substantial folder that detailed everything from the case. Hannibal took the folder from his hands and flipped it open. He gave the information a perfunctory once over and brushed it aside.

“Not the case,” he said dismissively, setting the folder to the side. “I already helped with Will’s workload. I likely know as much as you in that regard. Tell me everything about what happened today. What was happening when Will was taken. When you discovered he was no longer amongst your ranks. Everything about the location.” Jack opened his mouth to speak, sorrow laced into his features. Hannibal stopped him with a raised hand.

“Before you speak, please do not waste my time with apologies. I have no interest in how you feel. Let your guilt fuel what needs to be done, but do not let it cripple you into missing something vitally important. We do not have much time.” He patted the duffel bag in his hands.

“I have already procured the funds necessary to pay the ransom. Money is nothing to me; a means to an end of which I have more than I could spend in my entire lifetime.” He paused, watching Jack’s face. “I do not believe this man will simply give Will back to me unharmed, and I am not prepared to deal with that eventuality. I need you to help me understand what has happened, so I can help you find Will when this man leaves him to collect his ransom.” Jack nodded and moved to one of the monitors. A large map of Baltimore was displayed in high detail, sections they had managed to cordon off for a search glowing in the dim light of the room.

“The original location is here,” he said, tapping the screen with a finger. The image was enlarged to show an empty row of warehouses, likely abandoned for some time by the looks of them. _So, that is where you are choosing to hide._ The monster in his chest curled and stretched. “We combed every inch of the buildings and found nothing. Not a hair, a footprint, nothing. Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, feeling the darkness in him grow.

“Tell me about him.” Jack didn’t hesitate.

“His name is Terence Perkins. Single. Male. Likely homosexual. White, mid thirties. Tall. Very strong, likely intelligent.”

“And what has been the state of his victims when they’re finally found?” the doctor asked. He already knew what Jack was going to say, but needed to hear it aloud; let the horror of what Will might experience pierce through him in an instance where he could control his reactions. Jack hesitated for a moment, continuing to stare at the screen as he watched Hannibal from the corner of his eye. Hannibal could feel the appraising gaze upon him, let it burn across his skin.

“Hannibal-” Jack started. Hannibal held up a hand.

“Don’t. Just tell me.” Jack nodded slowly and looked away.

“He likes to dislocate vital joints,” he murmured quietly, resigned. “Elbows. Knees. Things that will hurt and incapacitate.” 

“How does he kill them?” Jack stalled again. Hannibal turned to meet his gaze; he took a step into the agent’s personal space. All of the normal warmth, the light that made him appear human had leached from his eyes; for the first time Jack Crawford could see the void that laid in wait beneath the careful veneer of Hannibal’s person suit. He swallowed, the sound audible over the buzz of other agents working diligently to track the killer’s movements.

“He-” The doctor moved another step closer. Jack stood his ground, but barely.

“How?” he demanded.

“Strangulation.” The word was whispered, stark and obscene as it hung in the air between them. “Garrote. Multiple ligature marks to the neck, about the thickness of a piano wire. He usually-”

“Lets them pass out, revives them and does it again,” Hannibal finished for him, horror creeping into his voice. _No. No, I will not let this happen to you, darling. I will not let him take you like this._

Jack nodded, miserable. “Yeah. He usually goes days in between so we have some time-” Hannibal seized the front of Jack’s shirt, bringing them within inches of one another.

“If you think,” he seethed, “that I am going to stand idly by while you look through pictures, letting Will suffer even a moment of that fate, I am afraid you have sorely underestimated me, Jack.” He dragged the agent closer, until Jack could see the deep red pinwheels of the doctor’s eyes. _Christ help us. His eyes look like the fires of Hell._

“You will help me with the plan I have devised, because only you have the technology to do what needs to be done. I will give you instructions on what I need, you will give me the information I require.” He let go of Jack’s shirt, leaving the man panting before him. The room had gone silent; everyone stared at them with rounded eyes, waiting to see what Jack would do. The room could have caught fire and nobody would have been able to move. 

Long moments passed until Jack simply straightened his shirt and nodded, his eyes carefully averted.

“What did you have in mind?”

***

The wait for Perkins to turn Will’s phone back on was the worst few hours of Hannibal’s life. He knew the killer would be attempting to conserve Will’s battery; they were likely in a location without the means to charge it. He’d likely turn it off and wait until a time when Hannibal would have the opportunity to procure the promised funds. 

Hannibal spent the time perusing his memory palace, searching for Will in the various rooms he had created for them. They danced together in Paris. They strolled the cobblestoned streets of Seville, sampling food and wine as they talked about everything and anything. He guided Will through Italy, walking through the familiar passages he had stalked as a youth. They made love beneath crisp white sheets, grasping hands as they moved together, moaning out their pleasure. The thoughts, though soft, were almost unbearable. _Come home to me, Will. Come back to me and I will give you the world. Never again will you be put in a position to feel any kind of pain._

The minutes ticked by, feeling like millennia as he lived out every possible life for them to have. Although he usually felt disdain for God, he sent a silent prayer out into the universe, let it travel as it would.

_Please. Do not let this be the end, only the realization of our beginning._

_***_

When the banks had been open long enough for him to have made his way to collect the funds required, Hannibal reached for his phone and thumbed to Will’s contact, opening up their fond string of text messages. He swiped through them, reading Will’s playful words from the morning before, his heart twinging painfully in his chest. _How could these have been such a short time ago?_

Following through with his plan, Hannibal typed into the message box and hit send. As he suspected, the messages came through as delivered, then read. Careful satisfaction curled through his gut. _There you are. Just as I knew you would be. Rest assured, it will be your downfall._

[08:37AM] _Good morning. I have collected the sum of cash you requested. Please supply me with the drop off point you would like to use. Be certain that you are prepared to release Agent Graham, or you will find yourself without the significant payday with which you are being supplied._

He waited, his heartbeat fluttering. A message began to type, then stopped. The bubble appeared for a second time, taking longer than Hannibal’s nerves could stand. Finally, a reply came through.

[08:41AM] **And here I thought you and Will were on a first name basis, especially considering you’re willing to pay such a handsome fee for him. Rest assured, I haven’t harmed your pet in any way that won’t heal. Drop the money at the warehouse where my last victim was found. Don’t pretend that I am naïve either, Hannibal. May I call you Hannibal? We are practically friends now, aren’t we? I have already guessed that you’ll have someone on your side from the FBI. I’m not stupid, you know. Once I have collected the money, I’ll tell you where you can find your precious agent.**

Hannibal snorted at the false confidence laced into the words. _If only you knew what you_ _’ve awakened, you would apologize and melt back into the shadows. But now… it’s far too late for that._

[08:44AM] I _s there somewhere in particular you’d like me to leave the bag?_

[08:47AM] **Somewhere obvious. Just inside the side entrance to the building. Don’t try anything, or I will make sure that Agent Graham suffers before you get him back.**

[08:49AM] _You have my word. The money will be dropped within the next hour. I expect Will Graham returned to me within the following hour. Is that acceptable?_

[08:55AM] **Sure. I’ll have him released with his phone. He can have you pick him up. It will be like a date.**

[08:59AM] _Do I have your word that he hasn’t been harmed?_

[09:02AM] **Oh, he’s been harmed. But he’ll heal. Now quit stalling, or you’ll never see him again.**

[09:05AM] _Understood. I am on my way to the drop point._

Hannibal locked his phone and looked around at Jack. 

“Were you able to do what I requested?” he asked. His voice was trembling, his cold anger barely contained. Jack nodded.

“We’ve got his current location. I can't believe the dumb son of a bitch fell for it. We will head in that direction while you-” Hannibal stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“No," he snarled. "You will be sending one of your agents to the drop off location with my phone. I will be assisting you.” Jack didn’t bother to try and argue.

“Fine. We will mobilize in ten. Head downstairs and pick up some combat gear, just in case. You’re going to need it.”

***

The storage unit was located in a filthy downtown neighborhood; a place Hannibal had never sought to visit. The clerk’s eyes widened in alarm as the unmarked black vehicles rolled into the lot, his hands trembling as he told them everything they wanted to know. He had one customer that frequently made visits at all hours. Yes, he had been there the night before. Yes, he always paid cash. No, there were no security cameras on the premises. Too expensive. The tactical team fanned out, filling each of the rows leading to the storage unit, moving as silent as shadows. The door was thrown open, lights blinding into the space. 

It was empty, save a side table containing a saw, a roll of garbage bags, several wires in various lengths and thicknesses, and several immaculately cleaned tools. Hannibal couldn’t concentrate on the mess; in the very back of the room hung a man, arms trussed above his head, feet dangling beneath him. The clothing he wore was dirty and torn in places that made Hannibal believe that he’d been dragged to his current location, likely while putting up a struggle. One of his boots was missing, as was a single glove. His head lolled to one side, curls glistening in the bright light of the flashlights.

_Will._

Without a thought for his safety, Hannibal sprinted across the threshold, his entire body numb. Shouts rose up around him but he paid them no heed. There could have been traps, a tripwire. He could have set the whole building ablaze, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. He reached the body hanging before him, his entire body trembling. As carefully as he could, Hannibal touched the profiler, tilting Will’s face to his own. The eyes didn’t open, but he could see the other man's chest rise and fall. 

_Alive. Thank god, you_ _’re alive._

Bracing himself, Hannibal took the brunt of Will’s weight. He screamed for the men behind him to assist. Two more agents moved forward and cut Will’s arms loose from where they hung, releasing him limply into Hannibal’s arms. Hardly daring to breathe, Hannibal laid him carefully on the ground, shaking fingers gently turning his head to press against his neck, searching desperately for a pulse. He could see the telltale marks along his throat; bright red lines of pain where Perkins had inflicted his own brand of punishment. Hannibal ran his fingertips over the lines, wincing at the severe indentations. _These marks will not fade completely, but I will make you forget. They will serve only to remind you of my devotion to you._

“Will,” he murmured gently. He bent low, cradling the profiler’s head in his lap. The Bureau’s medics hovered behind him, waiting anxiously to examine their patient, but Jack held them back. Until Will opened his eyes, nobody was to touch him. Hannibal brushed back a lock of sweaty hair from the profiler’s forehead.

“Darling, please-” Blue, blue eyes opened, a gasped breath escaping the prone man. Will’s face contorted in pain as his hand tried to move to his throat. Only then did Hannibal notice the elbow and where it had been dislocated. He moved to intercept the movement, speaking as soothingly as his nerves would allow.

“Your elbow has been dislocated, and you’ve been hanging with your weight against it for some time. I will need to attempt to reset it to ease some of your discomfort.” Rounded, pain filled eyes met his own. Gasping for breath, Will nodded. As gently as if he were handling an injured animal, Hannibal grasped the affected joint and rotated Will’s forearm, wrist bent, until he felt it slide back into place. Will’s eyes were glassy with pain, searching his own frantically, as if not quite ready to believe he was there. The hoarse noise that escaped his throat was meant to be a scream, but his damaged windpipe wouldn’t allow for the full sound. It cut the doctor’s heart to pieces to hear it. _There. I have you. Better now. Safe._ Hannibal pulled the profiler into his arms, cradling his body back against his own, and began to rock.

“Hannibal-” Will managed to rasp. The sound of his voice through his damaged throat formed a ball of lead in the pit of Hannibal’s stomach. Tears of relief filled the doctor’s eyes, the worst of his fears released into the void. _I didn_ _’t think I’d hear your voice again. I thought we would be too late._

“I’m here,” he soothed, rocking Will’s body against his own. The bad arm was cradled against Will’s stomach, held in place by Hannibal’s own firm fingers. 

“I’m here,” he repeated, disbelief and relief coloring his words. “I came for you, darling- just like you knew I would.” Turning the profiler in his grasp, he gazed into Will’s eyes. “I’m never going to let you go. I would move mountains to be at your side, and would have burned the world to ashes to save you.” Will’s tears spilled down his face, crystalline and glistening in the bright lights. Hannibal swept them away gently with his fingers, unsurprised to find he was still trembling. He bent low and brushed their mouths together in a kiss. Will groaned into the contact, gasping as if it were his last.

The kiss was brief; both men were painfully aware of everyone in the unit doing their best to ignore this shared moment of tenderness. Hannibal closed his eyes briefly and nodded to the medics, who crept closer to examine the worst of his wounds. Throughout their questions and probings, Will stayed curled safely in his arms. 

Their preliminary examination determined Will would need to visit the hospital; the arm would need to be splinted properly so it healed without issue. The lacerations on his throat had caused some damage to his windpipe and it would likely need to be treated as well. Hannibal let them carefully load him onto a stretcher, holding Will’s uninjured hand as they wheeled him down to the waiting ambulance. He climbed in without asking; nobody was brave enough to stop him, and Hannibal was very clearly unwilling to relinquish his grasp on the man who had become the very center of his universe. _Mine. You are mine. You will never again be put into a situation of such peril. Not while I am here to prevent it._

The medics injected Will with pain medication and something to help him sleep, and started an IV to help with his dehydration. The doctor sat beside him, stroking the hair back from his forehead and whispering to him soft words of comfort; gentle, soothing sounds that eased some of the pain in Will’s eyes. As the doors began to swing closed, Hannibal caught sight of Jack approaching at top speed, calling for them to wait. Without a second thought, he closed the doors himself and the ambulance took off towards the hospital. He could see Jack panting on the pavement, trying to catch his breath, his eyes filled with frustration as he watched the vehicle depart. Hannibal couldn’t help but feel a bit vindicated; whatever the agent wanted, it could wait. 

Everything in the world could wait.

***

Will dreamed of his chains. His arms ached; the bite of the steel wire against his neck throbbed, robbing him of his breath. His heart pounded, begged him to breathe. He struggled, fought against the bonds that held him in place, but nothing helped. His body burned with need, his pulse pounded in his ears. Still, his lungs refused to take in air. As his vision swam, Will felt himself fall, plummet down to the earth, where it waited to surround him in its black embrace. 

He woke, startled from the painful dream to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. His throat ached; his breaths filled his lungs with fiery air that burned its way into his system, feeding his body precious oxygen. The tube in his arm pulled painfully. He glanced around wildly, his mind uncomprehending of what was happening to him. _Where-_

A hand descended to his shoulder, a warm and familiar weight that eased through his frightened senses, calming him immediately. The voice that spoke low in his ear was so familiarly comforting that he wanted to weep. He tried to clutch at the hand on his shoulder, but the arm that wasn’t trussed with tubes was held fast in a splint. Will tried to look around, but his head felt so heavy that he could barely move. Everything felt heavy and unreal. Exhaustion crashed back into his body and he lurched to the side, desperately pressed to the hand that held his only comfort.

“Shhh, darling. You had a nightmare, nothing more.” Hannibal’s hands wrapped his shoulders and helped him to sit back in the bed. Will allowed himself to be guided, grateful for someone else to take on the duty of moving. Everything hurt, and he was so desperately tired. Once settled back against the covers, the doctor moved until he was in Will’s field of vision, a tired smile gracing his handsome face. Will’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest; the other man was wearing his favorite shirt. The sight of the gleaming maroon material caught his breath. _He knows I love him in that shirt. Oh shit- I love-_

“Hannibal-” The doctor’s lips curved into a smile at the roughened sound of his voice. Carefully, he pulled the chair he had been sitting in closer to the side of the bed. He took a seat and gathered the profiler’s hand reverently into his own, keeping the tubes out of the way.

“I’m here,” he soothed. “Rest your tired eyes, my love.” _Love._ The word eased its way into Will’s system like honey; thick and golden. They had never spoken the word aloud, but he felt it every time they spent time together. It was in the dining room as they ate, curled up beside them on the couch as they talked into the early hours of the morning. It was there when they kissed, hands pushed into each other’s hair. It pulsed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat when they shared their skin, fucking to the point of exhausted satiation. It remained in the background, a gentle wash of emotion that could easily go unacknowledged; had until that very moment. _I am in love with him. I am nothing without him._

“Hannibal I-” the burning in his throat stole his words. Will coughed weakly, wheezing air through his damaged windpipe.

“Please, darling. Do not try to speak. We will have plenty of time for everything we need to say when your throat heals.” Hannibal smoothed his fingers along Will’s skin, comforting swirls along the inside of his palm. Will closed his eyes, overwhelmed.

“Let me do some of the talking for you, ease some of the worries from your mind.” Will nodded, keeping his eyes closed. The sound of Hannibal’s voice eased the stress from behind his eyes, relaxing the worst of the pain. _Comforting. Want him here. Want him to stay._

“We found you in the storage unit in which you were being kept,” Hannibal murmured, letting his fingers trail up the inside of Will’s forearm. “The GPS on your phone was still on, and we were able to triangulate your location. Mr. Perkins managed to collect the duffel bag that had been left for him and has so far evaded law enforcement, but his face is everywhere, so it’s only a matter of time.” The hand on his arm trailed along his chest to cup his jaw. Hannibal tilted Will’s face until their eyes met, holding Will’s gaze safely within his own.

“It was wise for you to tell him that you had someone willing to pay for your safety, Will,” he continued, his voice as soft as smoke. “A large payday kept him distracted and likely saved your life.” Will nodded his understanding. 

“Did you-” he rasped. Hannibal nodded and relinquished his hand momentarily to pour him a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. He held the straw to the profiler’s lips, letting him drink from the cup until he had his fill.

“Of course I paid it,” he gently admonished, setting the cup on the nightstand. “Money is of no consequence, especially when it comes to paying for your life.” He reached for Will’s hand, cradling it within both of his own. “I would have given the wretched man every cent I have if it meant that I could ensure your safety. I would do it without a second thought.”

“Love,” Will whispered. The doctor smiled and kissed Will’s hand.

“Yes, darling. Love is what has bound us for longer than either of us wishes to admit. I believe I have loved you since the first time we spoke, and it has only grown as we have bonded. When you were taken-” he swallowed hard. Will watched him, quietly absorbing his words.

“When you were taken, all I could think about was ensuring you were returned safely. No amount of money mattered. No rule breaking mattered. And when I found you injured…” The rage Hannibal had pushed aside roiled up within him, burning along his stomach and up his throat. 

“Protective.” Hannibal nodded.

“Yes. And should I get my hands on Mr. Perkins-” The corners of Will’s mouth raised in a gentle smile.

“Eat the rude.” Hannibal laughed and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to the other man’s smile.

“Indeed. Eat the rude.” Will settled back against the covers and let the medication in his system help him drift back to sleep. Hannibal sat with him, cradling his hand in his own as he kept watch. The attending physician came and spoke with him in hushed tones, ensuring him that Will’s injuries, while not insignificant, would heal completely with time.

“He will need plenty of rest and relaxation,” the doctor warned. “Make sure he doesn’t try to return to work for at least two weeks. He will need to be kept on a mostly liquid diet for the next couple of days while his throat heals.” He handed Hannibal the paperwork for Will’s medication. “Make sure he takes those. They’ll promote healing and keep away any risk of infection.” Hannibal nodded his thanks.

“When will he be discharged?” he asked quietly, watching Will’s face as he slept.

“Oh he can go home today, as long as someone is there to watch out for him,” the other man replied. “His physical trauma will be nothing compared to what he suffered mentally, and a quiet environment will do him best.” Hannibal hummed his ascent.

“It is lucky then, that he will be staying with a trained psychologist,” he murmured wryly. “I will be sure to care for his mental wellbeing, Doctor. Please prepare the paperwork. I’d like it to be ready when he wakes.” The doctor nodded and left the room, stopping at the nurse’s station to begin Will’s processing. Something about the man in the room’s demeanor shook him to his core.

 _Not someone I_ _’d want to cross. Not on my life._

***

The hot water surrounding him felt like heaven. Will allowed himself to sink lower into the tub, blissful heat lapping at his skin, easing the worst of the aches in his muscles. His arms and throat were the worst; the returning sensations after he had been rescued had paled in comparison to the dislocated elbow and near strangulation. Heat seeped into his bones, turning the sharp pangs into a tolerable dull throb.

“Comfortable, darling?” The voice came from the doorway, low and soothing. Will turned his head to find Hannibal, bare chested and unbelievably comfortable looking in a pair of dark blue lounge pants, framed in a rectangle of low light, watching him with concern. Will tried not to stare, but it was nearly impossible with him dressed as he was. _He rescued me. Untied me, carried me from that place. Stayed with me in the hospital. Brought me here instead of sending me home. Held my while I slept. Now he shows up at the bathroom door, concerned and looking like that._

“I’m fine,” he rasped. His hand came up automatically to rub at his throat. It still hurt to talk; the doctor warned that it was likely he would be sore in the coming weeks. 

“It will be best that you take it easy,” he had warned as he rubbed ointment into the angry red lines. “We have all the time in the world.” He had taken Hannibal’s advice until now, but this was important. He watched Hannibal’s face, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. 

“Come here?” Will gestured with his good hand towards the water.

The doctor padded across the room and knelt on the tiles behind him. Long, nimble fingers found their way into the profiler’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. Will bit back a moan and sank deeper into the water, resting his head on the edge of the marble. The gentle caresses softened the edges of his vision, melted his pain away to nothing. 

“I was worried,” Hannibal confessed into the softly lit space. Will closed his eyes and said nothing, listening to the other man’s words. “I don’t often find myself concerned with the affairs of others… but you’ve become someone quite special to me, Will. I would not have coped had something worse happened to you.” Hannibal gathered his injured arm, deft fingers caressing the skin gently. “As it is, I am highly displeased that you were taken, and that you were hurt.”

“Hurt maybe, but survived.” The doctor snorted, fingers idling over the softly swollen flesh near Will’s elbow.

“Survival is not an indicator of what could have happened, Will. Jack and I will be discussing your involvement in future cases at length. If he can’t ensure your relative safety, he will need to content himself to your academic assistance.”

“He didn’t purposely put me in danger,” Will protested.

“Perhaps,” Hannibal mused. “But the result would have been the same.” Gentle hands released his arm back into the water and cupped the profiler’s jaw, tilted his chin further back so Hannibal could lay a soft kiss against his mouth. “I do not want to be in a world where you cease to exist,” he whispered against the profiler’s skin. “You have become far more important to me than I could have dreamed, and the thought of you no longer with me…” his words trailed off, fear momentarily flashing through his gaze. _Holy fuck. He_ _… it’s all true._

“Get in here,” Will whispered, ignoring the burn in his throat. “I need- fuck I need to-” Without another word, the doctor stood and shed the lounge pants, every inch of skin gloriously bared to Will’s hungry gaze. Moving carefully to avoid the profiler’s injuries, he slid into the water. Will immediately crawled into his lap, pinning him to the warm marble. Their lips met in a hungry, desperate kiss; Hannibal’s arms came around the other man’s waist to support him, holding him against every wet inch of his body. Their tongues flashed together, quiet sounds of enjoyment escaped into the fragrant, heated air. They kissed until their jaws ached, gasping for breath as fingers wound into hair, drawing them back together like twin flames.

“I need you-” Will gasped, laving his tongue along Hannibal’s jaw. “I need to feel you-” Hannibal levied them from the water and carried the profiler to bed, laying him amongst the nest of sheets. Careful to avoid his injuries, the doctor kissed his way down the profiler’s sternum, licking away the moisture collected along his skin. His tongue grazed the muscle that covered his heart; a lingering kiss placed reverently, like a promise. _You belong to me. Your body. Your heart. Your soul. Mine._

It took almost an hour for him to reach Will’s swollen cock. His eyes gazed lovingly upward, adoring every flash of pleasure on Will’s face as he traced the underside with his tongue, danced along the dip just below the flushed head. Will panted above him, held his gaze as his prick vanished between the other man’s lips.

Hannibal held him in stasis for as long as he could, reveling in the gentle, heartfelt moans Will released unconsciously. When he finally let him come, the sound he made was almost inhuman, rising like a tidal wave from beneath his chest, edged with the roughness of his injuries. Boneless, spent, Will pulled the other man to him. Hannibal went readily, curling his body around Will’s frame, cradling him in the shelter of his arms.

_Sleep now. You are safe. And so, so loved._

***

Three weeks later, Terence Perkins emerged from the Greyhound bus, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to pop his spine back into place. He hated traveling by bus; it took forever to cross the country, they stank and everyone wanted to strike up a conversation, even when he took the pains of earphones to discourage it. Had it been up to him, he would have traveled by plane; left the country with the duffel bag that had been handed over and started a new reign of terror somewhere warmer. But now, with every border and flight attendant on the lookout for him, it would take some time to reach his final destination.

It didn’t matter. He was a patient man. He had weathered worse storms than this.

After selecting another nondescript snack from the vending machine, he made his way to the restroom, tucking himself into the only available stall. Privacy was a virtue that was disregarded when escaping through the anonymity of a large group; he took it where he could find it. He set his bag down on the least objectionable section of floor he could find, and turned to relieve himself.

He was so far into the fantasy of the white beaches and turquoise waters that he didn’t hear the lock slide into place on the outside door, nor did he register the lock of the bathroom stall slowly turning to admit the stranger inside. It took the heavy wire cutting off his air supply for him to understand just how wrong things had gone. He wasn’t a small man; he thrashed about like a fish trapped by a hook, hands scrabbling for any available surface, but the man behind him was too strong. He put his full weight against Terence’s spine, forcing him to the ground as the killer fought to take in air.

“Hello, Mr. Perkins,” Hannibal murmured into his ear. “We have not been formally introduced. I am the man from whom you extorted money for the return of my partner. You are about to find out what a grievous mistake you’ve made.” The garrote tightened painfully, cutting a deep valley of marred flesh into the other man’s neck.

“I am aware that under your pathology, I would allow you to pass out, only to revive you and begin the process again, but we are on something of a tight schedule, so I won’t toy with you in the same fashion. Just the one will do.” Hannibal held him down, letting the thin rivulets of blood soak into his gloves until Terence Perkins’s heart finally stopped. Without a word, he pulled the wire from the killer’s flesh and stepped from the stall. He hummed to himself as he removed the plastic suit, folding it neatly to fit in the duffel bag containing what remained of the ransom he had paid. Without a glance backwards, he straightened the sweatshirt he wore and pulled his cap over his eyes, glancing in the mirror to be sure all was in place.

Terence Perkins died as he lived; violently, strangled with his weapon of choice on the bathroom floor of a rest stop somewhere deep in the back roads of Midwest America. He had, in fact, been seen by several of the passengers, who were eager to share their accounts of his strange behavior throughout the drive. The bag of money disappeared from the restroom floor; no fingerprints or any other evidence was ever found. The death was chalked up to a crime of opportunity, and was filed away in the dusty room of the Bureau archives to be forgotten by those untouched by his atrocities.

Hannibal used the recovered money on a trip to Maldives with Will; a glorious week basking in the sun while the profiler rubbed tanning lotion into his skin. They made love every night beneath a blanket of stars, the ocean breeze ruffling their hair as they rocked together, whispering into each other’s skin. The nights that Will woke, breathless and close to screaming, Hannibal coaxed him back to bed, holding him until he fell back to sleep. As time wore on, the restless nights became fewer; their love sheltered him from the worst of what had happened to him. The profiler never returned to actively hunting the minds he pursued; the scars that kissed his throat saw to it that Jack didn’t ask. Instead, he contented himself to bodies and lecture halls, unburdening himself along the way to the man who had rescued him from a fate he didn’t want to contemplate. 

If he suspected what Hannibal had done, he never asked. Instead, Will simply chose to live.


End file.
